


The Sunflowers

by Princesse Palatine (Petronille)



Category: St. Leon (William Godwin), Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Diplomacy, F/M, Gen, House of Bourbon, House of Stuart, M/M, Major Character Death (canon), Poison, Royal Mistresses, Royalty, Spying, WIP, ancien regime France, court intrigue, maitresses-en-titres, the secret trip to Dover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:56:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petronille/pseuds/Princesse%20Palatine
Summary: Henriette d'Angleterre travels secretly to England with three of her ladies-in-waiting as an envoy to negotiate a secret treaty with her brother, Charles II of England. The trip -- and the tragedy that follows --  will change the fates of three young ladies of France -- Louise de Keroualle, Sophie de Clermont, and Marguerite de St. Leon -- forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Versailles is owned by CANAL, and William Godwin wrote the novel St. Leon. I own no characters but my own. The historical events are real, but I am following the Versailles TV series' interpretation of them.

When the King has called her into his privy chamber, Louise Renée de Kéroualle had been hopeful, and her aunt had been exhilarated. “Finally!” she exclaimed. “Finally, you’ve caught the King’s eye! If you’re very clever, and very charming, you can displace that horrible La Montespan as his maîtresse-en-titre! Think of what that would mean for our family!”

Louise knew very well what it could mean for her family. It was why her father had sent her to her aunt’s to be educated to begin with, and why her aunt had brought her to court: to catch the King’s eye and become his mistress, thereby raising her family from its obscure noble state to something greater. She herself could become a duchesse, and her father’s debts would not only be paid, but he would receive more honors than he could ever imagine!

With her aunt’s careful direction, Louise carefully dressed in a dark blue silk gown that flattered her coloring, with lace at the collar and on the sleeves. Her dark chestnut hair was meticulously curled and arranged, with several loose curls framing her face. Aunt Suzanne dotted some vermilion onto her cheeks and lips, to bring out a natural flush, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “There!” she exclaimed. “How lovely you look! Now wear those pearl earbobs and he will hardly be able to resist you!”

After borrowing some of her aunt’s rose perfume, she was whisked out of their pokey little rooms in the garret of the palace by some of the king’s guards and led down several flights of marble stairs to the main floor of the palace, through gilt rooms and corridors to the King’s privy chamber, where he sat at a desk, staring down at a map of both France and Flanders, and the Spanish king’s holdings in Holland, and, or at least she thought she saw, England to the northwest. 

He looked up from the map, then stood up to acknowledge her. She fell to her knees in a curtsey, bowing her head deferentially, not rising to her feet until the King bade her to. He came to her, taking her hand, helping her to stand. She was surprised to see that, up close, he wasn’t that tall, perhaps a few inches taller than she. But it was the way he carried himself, with such confidence, with the gravity of a man who had been chosen by God to rule France, that made him seem to be a greater man than he was. 

“Mademoiselle de Kéroualle,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile. His face bore an expression of paternal benevolence, as though he regarded her as his daughter and not a possible lover. “Thank you so much for coming on such a short notice.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, Your Majesty,” she replied breathlessly. The heady smell of cloves and rosewater made her slightly dizzy. She thought that she might swoon…

His brow furrowed in concern. “Mademoiselle de Kéroualle, forgive my inhospitality. Please, allow me to conduct you to a chair…”

And just like that, he took her hand, and led her toward one of the chairs close to his desk. Louise felt as though she was floating on a cloud, his scent enveloping her, his strong hand guiding her through her reverie to the chair close to his desk. “There now, Mademoiselle de Kéroualle, sit. Is that better?”

She followed his instructions, and took her seat in the chair, arranging her skirts strategically so that he might catch a glimpse of her trim ankles. It seemed that he had; he was watching her as he went toward his seat at the desk again, and he looked up at her, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

“Oh, yes!” she said, once she had found her voice, fluttering her lashes and averting her dark gaze from his. “You are much too kind, Your Majesty. Thank you ever so much!”

He inclined his head, sitting down in the chair, his eyes not leaving her. “You have been in the service of Madame, the Duchesse d’Orléans, these past few months, haven’t you, Mademoiselle de Kéroualle?”

She nodded emphatically. She had entered Madame’s household just a few months ago, with the intervention of a friend of her aunt’s, and her prospects had become much more promising. Henriette-Anne d’Orléans had been born a princess of England, but had been spirited away to France after the execution of her father, King Charles I, and was as much a French princess as her mother had been. It was rumored that the former queen of England, Henrietta Marie, had wanted a marriage between the King and the young princess without a country, but Queen Anne of Austria had vehemently opposed it, steering her son into marriage with the Spanish Infanta instead. The young English princess had still made a good match, with her cousin, Philippe, Duc d’Orléans, taking on the rank of Madame to his Monsieur. She might not have married the King, but she would remain close to him, just as they both might have wanted.

“Yes,” Louise said, “and she has been very kind to me, as she is to all of her ladies.” Including Mademoiselle Sophie de Clermont, a little nobody whom Louise viewed as an interloper ever since she had joined Madame’s household, and Mademoiselle Marguerite de St. Leon, the niece of the court usurer, the Comte de St. Leon, who had only gotten into Madame’s household under the influence of a courtier who owed her uncle a debt.

“That is a pleasure to hear,” the King said, his eyes resting on Louise. “She had always been kind, my sister-in-law. A rare creature in this world.”

Louise didn’t know what to say to that, but instead waited to the King to continue.

“You and two of her ladies are to travel with her to Dover in a few days,” the King went on, sweeping well-manicured fingers across the map on his desk to England. England, across the sea. “And from there to Whitehall, to my cousin, her brother, King Charles II. Tell me, what do you know of my cousin, Mademoiselle de Kéroualle?”

Louise swallowed, then folded her hands into her lap, the silk of her skirt smooth against her palms. “I know that he is very clever, Your Majesty – as clever as you – and that he does enjoy the amusements that the court has to offer as much as you do. You are much alike.”

“Very much alike, save for one thing.” The King placed his arms on the rests of the chair, leaning back, but still managing to sit as straight as he normally would. He sits like a king, Margot had hissed into her ear once during dinner. Everything he does, it befits his station. Margot, so self-possessed, so careful with her words, who reported everything back to her uncle. And Sophie, stupid, insipid little thing, danced and flirted with the Chevalier de Lorraine and exchanged double entendres like a little flipperty-gibbert, while her mother, a woman whose ambitions for her daughter lent her the nose of a hound and the eyes of a hawk for sniffing and seeking opportunity, coached her on what to say, while she rendezvoused wtih.

“And what is that, monsieur?”

“A weakness.” A corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “A weakness for pretty, witty faces.”

Louise felt the blood drain from her face. Surely…surely he didn’t mean…. Oh, Sophie! Sophie, for all of her wit, who was nothing! And Margot, who was much too clever to fall into any man’s trap!

“You will be well compensated for it, I can assure you of that. Mademoiselle de Kéroualle, would you like to serve your country, your king, and your God?”

And in spite of the questions spinning around in her mind, Louise de Kéroualle replied, “Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Versailles is owned by CANAL, and William Godwin wrote the novel St. Leon. I own no characters but my own. The historical events are real, but I am following the Versailles TV series' interpretation of them.

Someone had said once that to know Madame was to love her. Marguerite de St. Leon had to agree with that. Madame had been nothing but kind to her ladies, and had taken an interest in all of them, even the ones without substantial dowries, and vowed to ensure that they made good matches. 

“But you won’t have to worry about that, Margot,” she had sung out, her eyes sparkling as she had shaken the dice a few months ago, when they had stayed in her rooms one night and had played games of cards and dice and even dominoes until the early hours. “Your granduncle has made sure you’ll have the best of everything! Margot shall have her pick of husbands, mark my words! Only don’t marry the handsomest…”

Margot had glanced up at Madame in surprise, and Sophie, who had only had a little wine, flung her a wistful, if not envious, gaze. Louise de Kéroualle, who, like Madame, had imbibed a little too much wine, exclaimed, “Oh, whichever one you don’t choose, Margot, let one of us have him! There we’ll all have rich, handsome husbands!”

“Handsome and rich don’t always go together when it comes to husbands,” Sophie said dolefully. 

Madame gave her a concerned look, then took her little spaniel and placed it in Sophie’s lap. The little dog, a present from her brother, the King of England, was a friendly, sweet sort, and the girls enjoyed playing with it and feeding it while in Madame’s rooms. Sophie laughed as the dog licked her face, and Madame placed a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. 

“I shall ensure that all three of you find good husbands with great fortunes, who are very handsome, and who will love you,” Madame promised.

“Oh, Madame, if you could, it would be wonderful!” Margot exulted. For even though she was an heiress, and had excellent chances of making a good match, Sophie and Louise couldn’t even hope to have the success that she might,

Madame had smiled at her gently, reaching for her hand. “How sweet of you to worry about both Sophie and Louise, Margot! But there’s no need for you to. I’ll see if the King might help them…” She beamed at both Louise and Sophie, whose ears seemed to prick up at the mention of the King. Oh, yes, the King could help them. After he had had them in his bed and taken his pleasure of them, he would marry them off to the next available nobleman, with a hefty dowry to go along with it, for the husband’s trouble. Or they might end up like poor Louise de la Vallière, who had lost the King’s affections long ago, and no matter how far she reached, she could never hope to regain them.

No, Margot wouldn’t end up like that. Granduncle Roland would never allow for it; he enjoyed the intrigues and the buying and selling of favors even more. Secrets were currency to him. Money owed to him by noblemen who had lost everything at the gaming tables could lead to favors owed to him, and each favor held the possibility of being one step closer to the King.

Madame had been in a wonderful mood a few weeks, ago, but as the days had worn on, she had grown paler and thinner, often withdrawing to her room early and begging not to be disturbed. Sometimes Monsieur would go to her, and sometimes he wouldn’t. The King had been to see her once, remarking that she ought to take better care of herself for the sake of herself or her husband, then for her two little daughters. The King, who deplored illness of any kind, had abruptly left, and Madame had watched him with fever-bright eyes overflowing with tears.

Madame had been with child, and had miscarried a few weeks earlier. She was to recover from the ordeal, but the court doctor had insisted that she rest and remain quiet. The three of them had attended Madame in shifts, each reluctant to leave her side.

That afternoon, Madame had been well enough to get out of bed, though she was still pale and shaky, for an audience with the King. She directed Margot to bring her the butter-yellow silk gown, and chose a pair of diamond earrings and the matching necklace to wear with it. Margot helped her to apply some cosmetics so that she wouldn’t still bear the appearance of illness.

“The King wants to see me,” she mused as Margot dabbed some rosewater on her wrists and at the hollow of her collarbone. “What do you think it might be for, Margot?”

“I haven’t the slightest inkling, Madame,” Margot replied as she applied some powder to her mistress’s face. 

“Do guess for me, then. Why do you think he’s requested an audience with me?”

Margot paused in her work to think for a moment. “England,” she said. “Perhaps your brother has invited you to England.” Madame’s brother was King Charles II of England, whose moniker was the Merry Monarch, and whose admiration of women almost surpassed his cousin’s. Despite all this, the King loved his youngest sister, whom he had christened Minette, very much, and was devoted to her. 

“Yes, England!” Madame exclaimed, a wan smile brightening her face. “If I could tell you how much I miss England, Margot…”

And once Madame had returned from her private audience with the King, she confirmed it. “I am to go to England,” she said, her pretty blue eyes wide with disbelief. “I am to visit my brother at his court at Whitehall… Oh, Margot, I should like to take you. You can practice your English. And… Louise and Sophie. I should like to take them, too… But Margot, it’s all to be a secret. You mustn’t tell anyone…”

“No, Madame,” Margot promised, her voice sounding very far away as her blood rushed to her ears. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise…”

And as much as she hated it, she was lying, for she immediately reported the new development to her granduncle, who frowned over the gold he was counting out of his strongbox. More money to another nobleman, she thought. More favors bought. 

“You will report to me everything that you see, everything that you hear. Remember what I’ve told you, Margot. Be like the owl. Speak little. Listen much. And once you’ve returned, come to me straightaway with what you’ve gathered.”

Margot nodded, her heart leaping to her throat, as she watched her uncle count out the coins once again. He smiled once satisfied, then placed the coins into a leather pouch and handed them to his manservant, giving him instructions as to whom to deliver the money to.

So much money, that seemed to be in an unending supply.

And that made Margot wonder.

Where did it all come from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the follows and kudos. They're very much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I love the series Versailles, but was sorely disappointed that Louise de Keroualle didn't show up as a canon character, because the events of her life could have made for a good plot point in the series. I'm assuming some of her story was absorbed into that of the fictional character Sophie de Clermont, but I still thought it needed to be told. Marguerite is a creation of my own, a descendant of the title character of WIlliam Godwin's novel St. Leon, who will appear in the story, as he will figure into the Affair of the Poisons.


End file.
